Erotica

Or smut?

ON THE first floor of Waterstone's book shop in Kensington in London are the “fashion and design” and “photography” sections. Nothing to startle there. But on not much closer inspection, some of the titles on prominent display might give pause for thought. Large colour books on Jackson Pollock—fine. But the triple-volume box set of “Exotique”, which more than lives up to its billing as a magazine of the sexually “bizarre and unusual”? And how about “Erotica Universalis”, by a certain Giles Neret, or “The Best of Girlie Magazines”? To say nothing of “The Erotic Lives of Women”, or “Tokyo Lucky Hole” about strip joints in Tokyo.

Waterstone's is an upmarket chain, pitched at intellectuals. But its sales policy is also directed by what the public want to buy—and it seems that the British public now want to buy erotica in increasing quantities. In November last year, the Olympia exhibition hall in London hosted the second national fair dedicated to all things erotic—“Erotica '98”. The Erotic Review has metamorphosed from a thin quarterly with a print run of 4,000 free copies into a monthly selling 30,000 copies on subscription. Pure, a magazine for what it hopes are “sex-loving cosmopolitans”, hits the streets at the end of the month.

Erotic fiction in particular has been one of the publishing sensations of the decade. There are now ten major imprints. All are owned by big publishing houses. Little, Brown, which publishes Ex-Libris, is starting another erotic imprint, X-listed, on April 16th, focusing on fetishism and sado-masochism. One of the most successful imprints is Black Lace, owned by Virgin. They have notched up sales of over 2m since they started in Britain in 1993.

Moreover, this erotic fiction has been selling in mainstream bookshops, such as Waterstone's and—most importantly—W.H. Smith, Britain's leading newsagent, which has long been famous for taking a stern line on pornography. Smith's has merely imposed restraints on the publishers of erotica when it comes to their cover artwork (no handcuffs...), in order to preserve its image as a “family” bookshop.

Many argue that the way that the erotic has moved into mainstream bookshops is merely another example of the lengths publishers and film makers will go to dress up sex, and then sell it. Selina Seymour is the pseudonym of a male author who wrote an “erotic novel” for Ex-Libris. He describes his book as basically pornographic, but says it is called “erotic” in order to make it more socially acceptable.

Others in the business claim that the “erotic” is qualitatively different from pornography, and that this is the key to its success. They claim that 50% of the buyers of erotic novels are women—a tribute, apparently, to their superior plot-lines. Many erotic publications are well produced and have reasonably intelligent commentaries or texts.

On the face of it, Virago, the original feminist imprint, sits uneasily beside Ex-Libris in the Little, Brown publishing list. But the chief editor of Ex-Libris insists that, in fact, at the end of the 20th century, the two have a lot in common. The erotic novels all have to have strong female characters who are willing participants in whatever excitements might be on offer. The important point is that they “finish up in a position of power”. Unfortunately, your correspondent has not read widely enough in the genre to confirm this thesis, so it must remain merely speculative.